What Luck I've Had
by SherlockAvenger
Summary: Living in America hadn't exactly been all that she had dreamed, but an incident after work one night left Sasha with a much more optimistic view on her life. After all, things could be much worse.


It had been a *long* night for Sasha. Working at the bar was grueling. She had to deal with drunken men's advances (they all 'liked her accent'), and that coupled with her irritating boss who was constantly yelling at her for no reason, she was very glad to be going home. Still, at least in America the late nights and early mornings of early Autumn were not nearly as bitterly cold as Moscow's, and that was something to be grateful for.

She called a cab and all but collapsed into the back when it arrived, giving the driver her address. She was longing for her warm bed and trying to keep her eyes open for the remainder of the ride home. That was when she noticed that the driver was taking a strange turn. It could lead back to her apartment, but it was the long way, usually only taken if the traffic was too bad to go the normal route. But now, at 2:45 A.M., these little side streets were deserted.

She was a quiet person by nature, and particularly non-confrontational, so she remained silent, mentally speculating as to why they would be taking this way. She was drawing a blank for the most part, but eventually settled on the reasoning that perhaps this was a new driver who just did not know the streets very well. Still, it was unfortunate, as she had an early shift at another job and really needed some sleep before she could function for that.

Several minutes passed, and Sasha jerked awake. Realizing she must've fallen asleep, she frowned at herself and glanced out the window. ' _Ooohkay, don't panic._ ' She thought to herself, realizing that they were definitely not on their way to her apartment anymore. They were heading toward the other side of town.

Sasha looked at the driver, whom she realized had not yet spoken one word to her. He was acting normally, but he seemed suddenly sinister to her. She was trying to remain calm, but she had been hearing a lot of stories about girls disappearing around the area, and her gut told her that she was going to be the next newspaper headline. Although, maybe not, because there was really no one to report her. She wasn't in contact with any of her family, and her boss.. well, she wouldn't put it past her to just sweep the whole thing under the rug and never give Sasha a second thought.

Her eyes began to prick with tears. She didn't know what was going to happen to her, which was terrifying. She had no idea what to expect. Would she be murdered? Would he keep her in captivity? Would she be sold off somewhere? She didn't know much about the girls who were kidnapped. She only knew that they were taken by some organization, but there wasn't much information available. It was almost as if everyone was keeping it quiet, hushed up. She vaguely wondered why, as she struggled to form some sort of getaway plan.

All of the sudden, they turned smoothly into... a taxi garage? Great. She was probably going to be murdered here. She wasn't going down without a fight, though. Oh, no. She wasn't very strong, and she had no training in self-defense (something that she now regretted), but she would cause a scene. Maybe, with some luck, someone would hear her and call the police. She realized that her hands were digging into the seat, and her lips pressed into a hard line. She was bracing herself.

The driver glanced at her in his mirror. He looked almost apologetic. Funny, that the man who had just kidnapped her looked as if he were sorry about it. It jolted something in her, and the realization of what was happening to her sunk in. Her muscles all relaxed at once, and she slumped back against the seat. How was she going to get out of this?

They pulled to a stop, and she saw that the cavernous room was devoid of anyone else, merely being occupied by a few other parked taxi cabs. She looked back into the rearview mirror, and saw that the driver looked slightly spaced out. ' _He must be as tired as I am,_ ' Sasha thought. ' _Probably also wishing that he was at home, in bed, asleep. Oh, if only I were dreaming._ '

The driver of the cab got out, spoke a few hushed words to himself in... was that *Russian*? She couldn't make out the words, but it sounded like her native tongue. Still, she couldn't be sure. Perhaps her subconscious was only searching for some semblance of comfort in this moment of horror.

He abruptly turned and jerked her door open (' _Why didn't I think to try to get out before?_ ') and reached in to pull her out. That was when the survival instincts kicked in. She struck out at him, which surprised him. She managed to catch his right cheek with her closed fist before he subdued her (quite easily, to her shame) by grabbing both of her arms. She struggled as he got her out of the car, kicking and jerking away as best she could, but she wasn't able to do much. She realized that her idea to 'cause a ruckus' was rather silly. After all, this was New York. Even if someone were to hear her, no one would call the police. It was basic psychology: if there was more than one person around, each would assume that someone else would help. No one wanted to get involved, or inconvenience themselves in any way. New Yorkers were especially set in this frame of mind, she had learned.

"Now, now calm down." He said this in English, but his accent was definitely Russian.

"Nyet." She replied tersely, still struggling to get away.

His eyebrows went up, and he began speaking in their native language.

"You are Russian?"

Sasha, who at 5'3" and about 115 pounds was having no luck gaining any sort of advantage on this tall, strong man, gave up. She looked away and nodded, miserable.

He looked relatively surprised at this.

"What are you doing in America?"

"Looking for a better life. What luck I've had so far." She said in a vaguely sarcastic tone, looking down at her shoes.

He smiled sadly and nodded, like he understood,and began to drag her down a hallway which broke off from the main room. She dug her heels into the cement, to no avail.

"Where are you taking me?" Sasha questioned him. He looked down slightly, not meeting her eyes, and didn't reply.

"Why am I here?" At the moment, her mind was running in all sorts of directions. She was considering all of the options, no matter how far-fetched. Maybe this wasn't a kidnapping! After all, there could be a perfectly legitimate reason that this man had taken her to an abandoned building instead of home, and was now dragging her further into the cement halls, where no one would be able to hear her scream…

She was broken out of her terrified musings when he stopped and swung a door open. A small room was revealed, and he shoved her inside and closed the door quickly. She heard a lock turn on the other side.

"WAIT! Wait, please!" She pleaded. There was no answer, but neither did she hear footsteps walking away…

"Please.." She continued. "Why are you doing this? Why.." She broke off, her breath coming faster and faster. ' _I'm hyperventilating._ ' She thought off-handedly.

"Please let me go." She leaned her head against the door. Silence; the sound of her own breathing. Nothing.

Then, a heavy sigh from the other side of the door.

"I.." The man began to say. There was a long silence, in which Sasha tried to control her breathing, and slow her racing heart. He said nothing more for a long time. She sat down, back against the wall, and stared into the darkness.

"How old are you?" He asked suddenly.

Brow furrowed slightly in confusion, she responded.

"Nineteen."

A long, drawn-out breath from the man. Then, the sound of a lock clicking. The door opened, only a crack at first, like he was hesitating, but then all the way. He stepped partially into the room, and gestured for her to follow him.

"Come on."

She slowly rose to her feet, and then followed him out of the room, back down the hallway, and out into the garage. When they got to the taxi they had previously been in, he opened the back door and motioned for her to get in. She was, however, still wary.

"Why?" She asked, confusion coating her voice.

He looked up at the ceiling, and then at the back seat.

"Just get in. I am taking you home."

Sasha didn't understand what exactly was going on, but she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to go home.

She got in, pulling the door closed behind her, still breathing heavily from her previous panic-attack.

They drove out of the garage and onto the dark streets of Hell's Kitchen. There was no one else in sight but a pair of drunken tourists staggering back to their hotel.

There was complete silence in the car, up until they reached her apartment building. She was climbing out of the car when she paused for a moment, and then said,

"Thank you." She closed the door, and noted that his window was rolled down.

"I guess." She added uncertainly. He didn't reply, merely backing out of the parking lot and driving away.

Sasha made her way up to her home, mulling over what had just happened.

' _I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up just to realize that it was all a dream…_ '

* * *

His phone was ringing. He took his time answering it, not particularly wanting to speak to the person on the other end.

"Da." He spoke, his voice quiet and tired.

"Sergei. You get anything tonight?" Dmitry's voice cut through the otherwise hazy silence of the night.

"No," Sergei responded after a pause. "Nothing."


End file.
